Filth talking February
Shit-talking about the month of loves but, like, in a cool, TMI, and soft sorta way
The main dish…
How did you spend the most cringey month in the year? Don’t you just hate February? First, the ads are everywhere. And they’re all trying to make you feel miserable about yourself. You can be happier in love or gladder single if you just spent 3000 bucks on a useless purchase. I tried to be cool and forget that February is the month of Valentine’s day, my parents’ anniversary, my most loved and unloving ex’s birthday (ew), and my birthday. And yet, I bore witness to so much love this month, most of it unromantic in the typical sense. Since you didn’t ask, here are some things that stuck out for me.
I hopped from my home to the homes of my friends, whose families welcomed me like I had always been a part of them. I was reminded of the refreshing wisdom, grace and lightness that respectable elders can bring into a room. It’s such an odd and intimate gift to know my friends by way of living with them and their families. Somewhere, there’s a level of friendship you unlock when you know what’s in their pantry, how their mothers wake them up and how their fathers say goodnight. I am so grateful to have learnt of new reasons and ways of loving them.
I observed feeling incorrectly occupied in social settings. I’d be in the midst of an event I had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready for and yet I’d be completely lost as to how I was to attend it. What’s my role as an audience? I developed a sequence of things to do when I’d find myself confused at an ‘event’ as the event occured. First, I’d look to my phone and start scrolling social media. Then, I’d look around to find my friends who were - arguably just as confused but still - more comfortable. Third, I’d identify' ‘tasks’ to occupy myself with. Does a group of aunties need food? Right away! Do you need me to count the men to whiskey ratio? On it. At parties, whenever I was not actively speaking, I’d observe others with a hypothetical pen and take mental notes. Where are they looking? Are they attempting to butt into the ongoing conversation? Are they listening, really? Who’s bored? What thought are they lost in? (and is it sad?) How are they going to distract themselves from this distracting thought? I tend to think they made themselves another drink or went out for a smoke or asked if someone else wanted to partake. Before people on the internet diagnose my ‘social anxiety’, I’d ask for some restraint. I didn’t feel anxious in these situations, just curious and observant. Seeing just how many people experienced this confusion made me imagine an implicit solidarity - a room full of people dedicatedly drinking with no central purpose? That is so strange!
I caught myself beginning to really like Bombay/Mumbai. I always say Bombay and then, politely add Mumbai. It’s the usual crush: things you’ve done before are ‘novel’ if done in a new city and everything is observed with a sepia light and everyone is charming. Take the obscene amount of time I spent on Bombay roads. To my horror, I did not hate at least 60% of it. I took one fast local train and raved about it incessantly for an entire week to everyone I met. I mostly travelled my new city in autos, which are incredibly dangerous, very romantic, and, most importantly, have a fixed rate for distance. As a passenger, I also observed that Bombay traffic is more chaotic than Delhi’s - two and three wheelers will swivel to pass through the smallest spaces and take the sharpest of turns. But, Bombay drivers are still less aggressive than Delhi ra(n)gers. Even when small collisions occur, I saw ‘Mumbaikars’ respond with a rude, "What are you doing?”; a simple “Tchh”; and - to my greatest horror - complete silence by both parties. At peak Delhi summer last year, I had the front of my Uber destroyed in the middle of a fly over because my car’s driver began to yell after his (already broken) rear view mirror was scratched. I have a few theories about the diverse range of rage in the two cities, which I’ll probably nerd out about in a separate post. I attended the lovely and free Mumbai Urban Art Festival, which left me happy for days. I took my life’s second kali-peeli to walk by marine drive as the sun set. I ate lots of sev puri and raj kachori from old newspaper packets. I was shocked to see how men in Bombay can ask you out and it not be the scariest thing to happen to you that day. The audacity, the confidence, and the skill? I am both irked and impressed by this.
I ate so much fresh fruit. I am not sure when I stopped eating fruits - grade 9 or 10, may be. I am certain that it was some stupid logic to lose weight. It was also bull shit. This month, I ate what felt like the entire universe of fruits - figs, cherries, gooseberries, apples, red grapes, green grapes, strawberries, cheekoo, valencia (deep orange) oranges, regular greenish oranges, blueberries, pears and then some more. I observed the spectrum of ‘sweet’ from tart to decadent to painfully meetha like chashni. Can we start doing a fruit-and-cheese party without adding wine to the menu? And we can we end it at 9PM? Fruits are awesome.
I questioned how we are imagining a return-to-office world without increasing office temperatures up to productive levels (22°C for me). Most centrally air-conditioned offices are set to temperatures that are way too cold. Unsurprisingly, women experience greater discomfort because of this overcooling. I don’t know about you but I’d personally like to work in a space where my brain doesn’t freeze out and I don’t have to pack a shawl, jacket and socks inside my tiny lady’s purse.
I came back home earlier than promised to surprise my mother. Instead of being happily surprised, she suspected that I really came back for a boy (that doesn’t exist). Her skepticism grew stronger because I had pimples and a rash on my face, something that usually happens because men have horrible hygiene. However, my skin rash had occurred because I applied too much make up. Compounded by my mother’s need to plan logistics and resolve her tech issues at 3AM; my month long social exhaustion and sleep deprivation that came to its knees the moment I entered my home; and my general ability to take my mother for granted, I have now spent the entirety of last weekend in a fight with my mother. Not the most romantic end to the month of love, I’d say. We’re on the mend now, though..
The sides…
More celebrities got married and all of us - publicly or secretly - obsessed about it. I recommend reading this piece about how celebrities are misplacing the (already confusing) purpose of weddings. My highlights:
Weddings and celebrities are both steeped in perfection. And for a lot of couples in general, and women in particular, your wedding day is your moment of celebrity. For a day, you get the hair, the make up, the photography, all the attention on you. I can see the throughline of why we find celebrity weddings so seductive, and wanting a piece of that action. But.. celebrities, who ironically can afford every lavish detail for their weddings, often get things comp'ed in exchange for visibility or alignment for their weddings. So, we consume these photos, and over time, they set this ridiculous standard for which people strive, and it weirdly normalizes their over the topness.
The cultural obsession we have with weddings is misplaced. We want to see what they wore, what the ring looks like, what were the flowers, blah blah, but we don't mourn if that marriage ends in a few years. It contributes to this over-investment in weddings, while we pay little attention to marriages. It is sad.. The message to couples is that what matters is how your wedding looks and the success of your marriage is secondary to that.
What's also problematic about the commodification of weddings is what is commodified, and that's often women. The wedding industry is synonymous with the bridal industry: not couples, not grooms. So, there's this massive machine that is selling women this fantasy of being a bride, on being thin, looking the part, springing for lash extensions, you name it. There is high-grade pressure on women to transform into a bride, regardless of who she is, her background or what her values are.
In similar vein, Roxane Gay’s refusal to accept the glorification of horrible and unhappy marriages.
The movie, Catherine Called Birdy on Prime Video. Watch this movie if you’re craving comedy/romance/historical fiction/or just cute feelings. This movie was so beautiful, funny, romantic, silly, and atrociously cute. Lena Dunham directed it, if that means anything to you.
The book, The Newly Weds by Mansi Choksi. Just 3% of married couples in India chose each other. This book traces the journey of this small minority who chose love despite the many challenges put against them by society. Not only does the author ask the classic question, “Do they win despite the odds?”, but she describes how the odds transformed them and their love. I loved the earnest writing style in this book and strongly recommend it if you too love wondering, talking and reading about love.
Ranveer Brar’s galawati kebab recipe. I can watch Ranveer Brar literally pick at his nails all day but him narrating tales about galawati kebab and kneading through the kebab mix.. leaves me feeling many sorts of lovely ways.
This sticking sentence by Garth Greenwell that I am quoting completely out of context: “..call it a moral quagmire if you want, or call it depthlessness, an awareness that our knowledge of others is always partial; an awareness that the value of others’ lives is not exhausted by their bad acts, that such value can never be exhausted. This doesn’t mean permanently suspending judgment, or suggesting that “nobody is at fault”; it means seeing that no one is reducible to fault.”
Why isn’t male birth control a thing? “98% of women would trust a committed partner to use male birth control, and over half of men say that if birth control sans side effects were available, they would happily take it.” Leslie Shrock discusses promising trial results about male birth control pills and what it’ll take men to get them to use the pill if it ever comes to market.
Questionnable screenshots…
A note I made:
Where there’s hurt, there’s a great deal of love.
… And then I fell in love
With the most wonderful boy in the world
We'd take long walks by the river or
Just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes
We were so very much in love
Then one day he went away and I thought I'd die, but I didn't
And when I didn't I said to myself
Thank you for making it this far. If you liked this, let me know. If you have ✨Thoughts✨, let me know. If it didn’t impress you, let me know. If you hated it, please leave me alone.
~
From my blue childhood bedroom with a finished bowl of strawberries by my side,
Uno
So intriguing reading how you actually were feeling during those weddings and the nuanced thoughts you observed in people around you, Uno. Lovely as always!
I definitely support fruit and cheese nights. I also support only cheese nights. Please invite me.